Into the West
by Lady in black
Summary: Two-shot. Frodo sails west and thinks about the things he has lost and others that he was forced to leave behind. Frodo's POV.
1. Into the West 1

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Lord of the Rings and I do not make any money writing this story. It has all sprung from the brilliant mind of J.R.R. Tolkien and I am merely borrowing his characters.

AN: Two-shot. Frodo sails west and thinks about the things he has lost and others that he was forced to leave behind. Frodo's POV.

Of course Frodo's quote of Gandalf is from "The Return of the King".

Please read and review!

* * *

**Into the West**

* * *

The heaviness in my heart begins to ease as I set foot on the gray ship waiting for my companions and me. Surprising and comforting is the feeling as the familiar certainty of firm ground underneath my feet is replaced by the gentle rocking of the Elvish vessel as small waves caress its hull lightly. The weathered wood is smooth as my fingers grab hold of the railing and I turn to look one last time at what once was my life. There they are, my family, my friend who I consider a brother after everything we went through together. Innumerable tears stain their cheeks as they are watching the ship leave Mithlond – taking me with it. My own tears are shed, however my heart becomes heavy once more as I realize that this is indeed the last time that I will see all of them. Those I loved are fading into the world of remembrance and soon I will be nothing more than a memory for them, too.

All too soon the shores of Middle Earth are out of sight and the ship is out on the open sea. Still standing by the railing I feel the presence of an old friend, companion, advisor and soon the notion is accompanied by a reassuring grasp of a large hand on my shoulder. Gandalf is standing next to me, his own gaze fixed on something in the distance.

"I assume Bilbo is already attempting to learn all about the Elves' nautical skills?" The words out of my mouth are soft-spoken and I can't bring myself to tear my eyes from the deep blue of the sea.

"That he is. But the trip from Rivendell to the Gray Havens has exhausted him so I should think he'll sit down to observe soon," Gandalf says in a low voice.

"Observe of course meaning that he will take a nap…" I interpret and as I look up at the Istari, my words are validated by the twinkle in his eyes.

"You have not left this spot since we left port several hours ago. Do you doubt your decision to leave?" He looks down on me and clearly his eyes are full of concern and compassion. "What troubles you so?"

Indeed. What troubles me so? Should I not feel blessed and relieved to finally claim what I've come to consider my reward for my deeds during the Ring-War? But is leaving behind everything I love and I hold dear - for a future that might not even be one - a reward?

I was promised to find peace and healing in the Undying Lands beyond the seas and my hopes are high that indeed a form of healing will come my way. But what then? What is to become of me, away from my home and my life without any prospect of going back?

"This is not what I once thought my life would be," I say at length looking at the endless ocean once again. "This is not how I thought it would end."

"It has not ended, Frodo," Gandalf reprimands not without fondness in his voice but I shake my head, once more quite surprised how one of the wisest could fall victim to ignorance.

"Then why do I feel as though I have witnessed what might as well have been my own funeral at Mithlond? Have those who were left not wept? Were they not mourning the loss of friends, knowing that they will never return? You said it yourself, my friend – _I will not say: do not weep; for not all tears are an evil_. There are tears of joy, tears of sorrow, pain, and grief, Gandalf. I could not detect any joy in their eyes and neither can I find any in my heart. There hasn't been any joy in my heart for a long time now." I am startled by my own honesty and I see comprehension dawning on the Wizard's face. "I once thought that, after my adventure would be over, I would return to a life I knew and loved. I never abandoned this hope until I was certain that the end had come. The moment I claimed the Ring as my own, something inside of me died, Gandalf, and I knew my life was forfeit." The power of speech abandons me as a thought begins to form in my mind that I do not wish to share with anyone. However, wouldn't it have been for the better had I died that day instead of Smeagol? I still pity him for what he became during all his years of exposure to pure evil. But in the end he also became the most unlikely hero when he saved all of Middle Earth simply because he was a victim of his own greed. His moment of unintentional heroism was the moment any chance to redeem myself for my failure at the Cracks of Doom was gone. The king, his people, my friends they all know that I failed and even though they never said a word, they must find my moment of weakness and cowardice revolting.

"Not even the strongest of both body and mind would return from such peril unscathed, my dear Frodo. I have not much comfort to offer you, for I know that words can never give you back what you've lost." Gandalf's voice is not quite as strong as it normally is and as I look up at him I see moisture glistening in his eyes. "For many months my heart was heavy with guilt, Frodo, and even though I have lived to see many years, none of my many experiences has taught me the words I need to find so I can ask you for forgiveness." His distress is obvious but there's nothing I can do now to help him find relief. "None of this should have happened, Frodo, at least not with you being the one carrying the biggest burden of us all. I doubt anyone could have accomplished what you did, but it should not have been you. Your innocence should have been spared. It was my responsibility to keep you safe. For this, my failure, I will not even attempt to apologize, for I doubt such an act can be forgiven."

His confession surprises me to say the least and I don't know what answer I should give, which answer he probably expects from me. For a while silence stands between us as we are both pondering over things we both wish could be made undone. Eventually Gandalf walks away and leaves me standing, still holding onto the railing for I fear if I let go my legs will no longer support what little there is left of me.

* * *

t.b.c.


	2. Into the West 2

AN: Thank you so much, Silenthunder, Daeril Ullothwen, FairyTaleLover6, and dreamflower02. Your reviews are very much appreciated. I'm glad you liked the first part.

This is the second part of this two-shot (yeah, I know, it's quite obvious). Frodo's brooding.

DISCLAIMER: I still don't own anything. I just like to mess with a certain hobbit's mind every now and then.

* * *

**Into the West**

* * *

Night has fallen and I am sitting at the bow of the ship, leaning against the railing, watching the stars as they shine down upon this vessel as they shine upon the path, which leads those I love further away from me. Few sounds disturb the quiet, since the ones I travel with have long retired for the night, in hopes that the soft movement of the waves will lull them to a peaceful slumber.

Even though I am tired, sleep's comforting embrace is not yet within my reach, as I try to find meaning in the confusion that has taken hold of me. Saying good bye is never easy. But how do you say good bye to what you thought was your life?

I close my eyes and images from happier times appear. The soft green hills of the Shire I remember all too clearly still as I remember its mild summers. Many a day I spent wandering over the soft grass or resting and reading in one of the ancient tree's shade, and it seems as though I can still feel the warm drops of water on my skin as a summer's rain wakes me from a blissful nap. Often I dreamt of what my life would be like once the years of adolescence were behind me. My love for Bilbo has always been as endless as the sky but I never thought I was cut out for a life quite like his.

So often he told me about his adventures and I listened with great joy as he so vividly lead me into worlds far beyond my own. His tales of Dwarves and Elves, Trolls, and Dragons fascinated the fledgling I was, and in my dreams I often joined my cousin on one of his many adventures. Childish simplicity spared me the knowledge of the dangers they held and even though I never thought of myself as a fool, I am still astounded by some of the decisions I made without any foresight of their consequences.

The price I paid was high and I willingly gave more than what most would probably be willing to give, for I paid for what I did with my life. A shell of who I used to be is all there's left of me and although I am not yet wandering in death's eternal shade, my soul died when the end of all things came. What I had set out to do I had accomplished, albeit in a fashion that leaves me unworthy of the honors that have been bestowed upon me.

No, I have not destroyed the Ring. I did not cast it into the depths of Orodruin's fiery heart. What little strength of mind I had preserved left me when I needed it the most and thus I claimed the Ring, willingly believing all the false promises it filled my heart with. Apart from an unbearable pain that sprang from my heart and not my hand, there is not much I remember of the hours that followed my greatest foe's demise.

Sam was with me, there at the end of all things, as was the certainty of my own death. What else was to come if not an untimely end for a simple Hobbit that had chosen to meddle in affairs that were not his own? My unworthiness I proved by failing them and their hopes and dreams of a brighter tomorrow after the curse of a long dark night, which Sauron had cast all over Middle Earth, would finally be broken. For Gollum accomplished what I could not.

No longer able to sit and linger in painful memories I stand up slowly and on weary feet I wander towards the ship's stern, wondering why there is no one else but me on deck. In the east the sun begins to rise from its watery grave for the night and high above me, Seagulls accompany our vessel on its voyage to a land from where I will never return.

Yes. My soul died when I succumbed to the Ring's calling and there is nothing I can do to renew or even just remember the joy I once felt in my life. I lost myself on my journey into Mordor and the rest of my days I shall spend trying to replenish my heart with memories of love and beauty and light. For it is my greatest hope that the Shadows will not linger in it and that my soul is not yet quite dead but lies merely dormant.

"My dear boy," Bilbo's voice is still husky from sleep and as I turn around, startled by his sudden presence, I come face to face with the one who looked out for me for the better part of my life. A smile protrudes from his wrinkled features and I find myself still surprised at how quickly age has caught up with my beloved cousin.

"It is still early," I smile at him and take his hand in mine. "You should go back to bed."

"Oh, but I wouldn't want to miss the first light of day for a thing in the world, Frodo," Bilbo chuckles and a familiar twinkle appears in his old eyes. "Rarely does such beauty present itself and we should not deny ourselves the joy of seeing it."

Never before have I seen a sunrise quite like this one. The water is bathed in a thousand shades of red and orange and yellow and by the sun's golden rays shadowed birds wing swiftly through the brightening sky.

This is beauty if I've ever seen it. Beauty born from light.

"Get some rest," I hear Bilbo whisper as I hug my elderly cousin tightly to myself. "Your journey, Frodo, has only just begun."


End file.
